


The Reaping

by NerdGirl07



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Alternate Universe-Hunger Games, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Anne lives in the community orphanage, Diana's POV, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hunger Games, Hunger Games AU, Jerry lives in the seam, They're from district twelve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28863951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdGirl07/pseuds/NerdGirl07
Summary: A paper lay muddied in the dirt where the racketeer had disappeared. Curious, Diana picked it up.Diana's heart stopped, fingers suddenly numb, and the paper fluttered out of her grasp; but she could still see the name written on it in neat printing.Anne ShirleyWere Anne’s odds really bad enough that racketeers were betting on her being picked? Could Jerry’s name be among those written on the other slips?__________________________________________________________________________________Let the seventy fourth Hunger Games begin.
Relationships: Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Diana Barry & Jerry Baynard, Diana Barry & Jerry Baynard & Anne Shirley, Diana Barry/Jerry Baynard, Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Jerry Baynard & Anne Shirley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	The Reaping

Diana’s belly was full, her clothes were beautiful, and her father was evil. Or at least Diana thought he was. There were times she almost forgot, but then she’d see Jerry’s hollow cheeks or look into Anne’s haunted eyes and she’d remember. She’d remember that the reason her family was one of the richest in district 12 was because her father was an official, and she’d remember how he upheld and encouraged the oppressive laws of the capitol, while enacting his own, laws that meant Jerry’s family lost money they didn’t have and couldn’t afford to pay, and Anne’s meagre rations at the orphanage got cut smaller and her list of jobs longer. Laws that had Diana and other town families going to sleep without the fear of starvation that those in the seam had, that kept them a little more secure in the harsh world of the district in the cruel nation of Panem, and meant the poorest in their district slipped closer and closer to all out famine.

There was never a time Diana was more ashamed of her father, more aware of her wealth, than on days like today. Today was the day before the reaping.

A heavy blanket of dread had settled over the district. She hadn’t had a chance to see Anne today, but she’d seen Jerry briefly. His little sisters had been clinging to each of his legs, and his mother had been watching him with tears in her eyes, like he was a dead man walking. Diana’s stomach had twisted at the sight. The rest of the district looked much the same as Jerry’s family had. Everyone was grim faced and fearful, and because it was required by the capitol they pretended they weren't.The kids from the seam seemed a little more worried than most, but the same feeling reigned amongst even the town's children. No one was safe from the reaping, even if the kids from the seam had more entries than most.

Before the Baynard’s had disappeared Jerry had wrapped her in a quick hug, just long enough to mutter into her ear.

“Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry! How could she not? Not when he and Anne had far too many entries. Not when no matter what, two kids were going to die, and she could do nothing about it. Nobody could.

She wasn’t worried about herself; at fifteen she had just five entries, and she’d only ever get three more. As the daughter of a district official, she was as safe as it was possible to be in district 12, had always had enough food that tesserae had never been a thought let alone a necessity. But she was worried about Anne...Anne who had been forced into taking tessera rations for herself and other kids ever since she’d turned twelve. Anne who at only fifteen years old already had 41 entries, because that was the price of living in the public orphanage. The odds were most certainly not in her favor. And that terrified Diana.

It was a familiar fear, one she’d felt every year since she’d first been eligible for the games. That year her name had been in the pot once.

Anne’s had been in 10 times.

10 entries at twelve years old. Two more entries than the rules said you were ever supposed to have. More than some of the eighteen year olds in their district had.

The year they’d turned thirteen had been worse Anne’s name had been in the pot 21 times that year. Once because she’d had to, once for her own tesserae, and nine other entries to get tesserae for kids at the orphanage who were too young to be eligible for the games, too young to get their own tessera, to pay the price for being poor. 11 entries total added to the pot, one more than the year before. Eleven more chances for Anne to go to her death, added onto the 10 slips from the previous year, that still sat in the glass ball as if mocking them.

It only got worse after that. The entries piled up, year after year, Anne’s name getting more and more likely to be drawn. It was no wonder so many people considered the orphanage a death sentence. Even if you didn’t get sick or starve to death, by the time you turned fifteen your likelihood of being drawn for the games was astronomically high. At eighteen it might as well be a given.

How many entries would Anne have at eighteen? She had 41 now, and there was no telling how many kids she’d have to take tesserae for in the coming years.

If Anne made it through this reaping, she’d still have three more to go before she would be safe. Not _if_ , Diana corrected herself, _when_. Anne would make it through this reaping, and so would she. There were thousands of slips. What was 41 out of thousands, really? Anne had already been through enough, the universe wasn’t so callous that it would send Anne to her inevitable death, right?

Anne would be ok. They would be fine.

Diana repeated this as a mantra in her head, doing her best to believe it. No matter how hard she tried, it didn’t work. Unlike Anne, Jerry had refused to tell her exactly how many entries he had in an attempt to make her feel better, but all it did was make her worry more. Puzzling it out she figured he could have as many as 24. Not as bad as Anne, but still, not good odds. Enough for five years of tessera rations for everyone in his family, plus the required entry for each year of eligibility.

24\. _Jerry_.

41\. _Anne_.

And her. _6_.

She slept fitfully that night, images of prior hunger games intertwining with the reapings, of the hundreds of kids she’d watched die. Visions of Anne at her worst, emaciated and withdrawn changed into Jerry bloodied and dying miles away from home.

________________________________________________________________________

The morning of the reaping dawned bright and cold. Breakfast was a quiet affair. Even Minnie May, who usually never shut up was silent, her head bent over her plate. By the time it was time to leave she was crying. Minnie May was only seven, but that didn’t mean she didn’t understand what was going on. 

Their mother shot Diana a look that was equal parts anxious and pleading, and Diana moved immediately to console Minnie May. They had to get to the square soon, and under no circumstance could Minnie May be crying. The capitol made it clear that the districts were to treat the Hunger Games as a sporting event, a celebratory competition. Showing up crying to the reaping could bring their entire family unnecessary ire, and it was never good to be in the capitol’s ill graces.

Minnie May wrapped her skinny little arms around her, her sniffles giving way to full on sobs. Diana let her cry for a minute, knowing how difficult the first few reapings could be, even before they were eligible for the games. Then she pulled back and smoothed the wrinkles out of Minnie May’s soft pink skirt.

“You mustn’t cry now.” She told her, “You know the rules. You have to pretend to be happy, even if you aren’t.”

Minnie May sniffled, but dried her eyes obediently. Diana was sure that was the first time she’d ever used the word  _ obedient _ to describe MInnie May, whose natural demeanor seemed to be a perpetual state of defiance. 

“I don’t want you to go.” Minnie May whispered, “You can’t get called if you don’t go.”

Diana swallowed, but forced a tight smile, doing her best to appear unconcerned. 

“I won’t be chosen.” She assured her, but a small part of her brain couldn’t help but wonder  _ what if _ .

“Besides, I have to go. You know what would happen if I didn’t.” she told Minnie May.

She didn’t say it but the word hung heavy between them.  _ Prison. _

“Ok.”

Minnie May took her hand, and Diana allowed herself to be dragged out to the car. Their mother’s relief at Minnie May’s composure was palpable.

The ride to the down square was silent, and Diana felt a familiar dread curdle in her stomach the closer they got. Somewhere across the district Anne would be walking to the square, probably with Jerry and his family, though they lived twice as far from the square as Diana and her family did. The shiny car was just another difference, another divide between Diana and her life in town, and her friends who lived in the seam and the orphanage respectively. Another divide between the richest and poorest citizens of their district.

God. Her wealth disgusted her sometimes. She couldn’t understand how Anne and Jerry could stand to look at her, let alone be her friend. Hell, she was sick with worry about what could happen to them, sick with worry about their respective piles of entries. She couldn’t even  _ imagine _ how they must be feeling.

The square was nearly full by the time they got there. Her mother hugged her tightly as did Minnie May, and her father planted a kiss on her forehead. She hugged her mother and sister back, but couldn’t bring herself to meet her father’s eyes.

“Good luck Diana.” Minnie May whispered, her blue eyes welling up again.

“May the odds be ever in your favor my love.” Her mother said, gently caressing her hair.

She offered them one more smile before she left to sign in and find the area for the sixteen year olds. The area here, where all the eligible kids were was even grimmer than the rest of the district. People handled the stress in different ways Diana noticed. Some people were standing alone with their arms wrapped around themselves, or their hands engaged in various nervous ticks. Others talked and laughed loudly with their friends, as if by ignoring the reaping it would ignore them too. Others stood in groups or in pairs, wrapping their siblings in tight hugs, or clutching their friends hands like a lifeline. Everyone was dressed up as fancy as they could afford, as was required. For most people this didn’t mean much, as some people only had one pair of clothes to begin with, but to Diana the added finery seemed to only added another layer of horror to the day, as if everyone was dressed for their own funeral.

Despite her best efforts she couldn’t help but glance at the very back of the roped off areas, where the twelve years old were penned like animals to slaughter. They were noticeably less composed than the other age groups, which was to be expected. This was their first reaping after all.

On the flipside there was an aura of grim celebration surrounding the pen with the eighteen year olds. On the one hand this was the year where they had the greatest odds of being drawn; on the other hand it was their last reaping. If they made it through this one they’d be safe, at least from the Hunger Games.

As she made her way through the crowds towards the pen for fifteen year olds, she noticed a racketeer slip through the crowd, his cruel eyes glinting menacingly. He held a sheaf of paper in his hands. Betting slips. 

He caught her eye and grinned, showing mossy teeth. Her eyes widened in shock when the racketeer winked at her before disappearing into the throng. Diana suppressed a shudder. She couldn’t understand the racketeers. Even if they had no one left they cared about, how callous was it to bet on the deaths of children, on the odds of the poorest being chosen. It was almost like they were capitol citizens, only somehow  _ worse _ because this was  _ their _ district, the kids they bet on were  _ their _ tributes, kids that would be shipped off to their deaths, whose families would be forced to watch their children’s murder and mourn them quietly. How could the racketeers have the stomach to bet on that? To use the trauma of others for their own gain, the way the capitol used the district’s children for nothing more than gory entertainment.

A paper lay muddied in the dirt where the racketeer had disappeared. Curious, Diana picked it up. 

Her heart stopped, fingers suddenly numb, and the paper fluttered out of her grasp; but she could still see the name written on it in neat printing.

_ Anne Shirley _

Were Anne’s odds really bad enough that racketeers were betting on her being picked? Could Jerry’s name be among those written on the other slips?

Thrusting those thoughts from her mind she continued on, scanning the crowd desperately for a glimpse of Anne or Jerry. She spotted them together, talking quietly at the roped off partition that separated the fifteen year old girls and boys. 

Diana had lent Anne one of her old dresses for the reaping, and although it draped loosely on Anne’s painfully thin frame she couldn’t help but think how pretty Anne looked. The green gown paired well with Anne’s glossy red hair that hung in loose curls down her back for the reaping, instead of in its usual twin braids. If Anne ended up going to the capitol she’d at least have a decent chance of getting sponsors.

_ Don’t think like that!  _ She snapped at herself, though it was easier said than done.

Jerry too, looked good dressed up. Normally he wore overalls and tough work shirts, but his reaping clothes consisted of a blue button down shirt tucked into a clean pair of jeans. The shirt was a bit tight on him, but Diana couldn’t help but think it made him look even better. The tight fabric emphasized his broad shoulders and the wiry muscles of his arms. His dark brown hair flopped into his eyes, he was in desperate need of a haircut, and Diana wondered vaguely if it was as soft as it looked. 

Her face flushed when she realized she was staring at him, and she looked away at once. Neither Anne, nor Jerry had noticed her yet, which gave Diana a chance to study them. She knew that as close as she and Anne were, and even how close she and Jerry were, that both of them worked hard to shield her from their deepest woes, the worst hardships they faced. She hated it, but Anne and Jerry were good at shielding her, and they were both ridiculously stubborn, so it was impossible to convince them not to do so since they’d both made up their minds to keep her in the dark.

Anne looked determined, Diana decided, brave, as if she believed that she could fight the reaping and come out on top. She stood tall, her back straight and mouth pressed in a firm line. Diana was slightly awed, the way she always was when it came to Anne. The redhead looked brave, Diana thought, it showed in the fierce kindness that lived in her eyes alongside her usual burning defiance, and in the slightest saucy tilt to her chin, that said she didn’t believe anyone was better than her; no matter if they were district or capitol and she lived in the orphanage. If Diana didn’t know her so well she would never have guessed Anne was nervous. On the outside Anne was the picture of composure, chatting amiable with Jerry. The only thing that belied the redhead’s nerves was her tight grip on Jerry's hand. Jerry looked much the same as Anne; strong, composed, and though Diana was loath to admit it,  _ handsome _ . Also, like Anne, the only way Diana could tell he was nervous was his white knuckled grip on Anne’s hand.

Jerry caught her looking then, and waved her over. He tried to offer her a reassuring smile but it looked more like a grimace. Neither he nor Anne were particularly overexuberant even on a good day, as tired and hungry as they so often were, but usually she could count on Jerry for a lopsided smile and some good natured teasing, and Anne for whimsical stories and sarcastic quips. Not today though, not when Anne had forty one extra reasons to be stony faced, and Jerry had twenty four reasons not to laugh.

“Hey.” Anne offered a dim smile, and a soft hug when she walked over, before pulling back and immediately clasping Diana’s hand in hers. Anne was reassured best with physical touch, Diana knew, and Jerry was too. Those two had been practically joined at the hip since they’d met in kindergarten, and were always physically affectionate, despite their feelings for one another being strictly platonic. When Anne had made friends with Diana, she too had been pulled into their little bubble of constant hugs and casual touches.

“Hey Anne,” she returned the hug, fretting over how she could feel Anne’s bones, even through the layers of her dress. “Hey Jerry. How are you guys?”

“Oh you know,” Jerry grinned weakly, “just great. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping and any one of us could go to our death today.”

Diana flinched at his pitiful attempt at humour, but Anne let out a derisive snort. She and Jerry always found something to joke about, even when it came to the worst parts of their world. Sometimes Diana understood the appeal of their dark jokes, other times, like today, they made her feel slightly sick.

“No Davy or Dora today?” She changed the subject. Davy and Dora were the twins Anne had been assigned to care for by the matrons at the orphanage, and Diana couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her without a baby propped on each hip, outside of school hours of course. 

Seeing Anne like this was more worrisome than anything else. 

Without the kids clinging to her and adding the illusion of weight to Anne’s form, Diana was thrown off for a second by how skinny Anne actually was. She’d always been overly slim, malnourished as all the kids at the orphanage were, but without the twins balanced on each hip she could see how truly gaunt Anne looked. It showed in the way she could nearly count Anne’s ribs even under the layers of her dress, and the way her skin was pulled too tightly over the bones of her pale face.

Anne scoffed at her question. 

“Not on reaping day. It’s the only day the matrons actually have to do their job and they’re right pissed about it too.” Bitterness laced her tone, and the red weal that stood out on her cheekbone belied just how true the matrons anger was. None of this was new to Diana, who’d listened to Anne rant about the orphanage for years, usually about how all the workers were greedy, lazy fuckheads who left the older kids to look after the little ones and do all the work while they sat around and collected the money given from the district. It infuriated Anne and saddened Diana. Anne was vibrant. She was smart, and she was kind. She deserved a better life than mothering kids who were motherless, and risking her life to feed kids who weren't her’s.

No wonder Anne abhorred the idea of marriage. Marriage meant kids and Anne certainly didn’t want any of those. If Diana had grown up in the orphanage she probably wouldn’t want anything to do with kids either.

Suddenly Jerry gasped. “Look!”

“The mentors.” Anne breathed with reverence, her stormy eyes glowing with respect.

Diana too, couldn’t help but crane her neck a bit to catch a glimpse at the living legends. And legends they were, although they appeared normal as they walked calmly across the dais and took their seats beside Mayor Lynde and the capitol escort, Effie.

Whereas most districts had one male and one female mentor (the most recent male and female victors respectively) both of the district twelve mentors were female. District twelve had only had three victors in the past seventy four years, and the only male victor had died, which left Muriel Stacy and Ka’kwet as the only mentors. Muriel Stacy was well known at this point. A slightly grizzled lady in her mid forties, Ms Stacy was known to be slightly eccentric, but had a sharp gaze and strong will. Diana hadn’t been born when she’d won her games at the age of seventeen, but she was popular in the capitol and snippets of her highlights were still often rewatched in the capitol. 

However, no matter how famous Muriel was, her popularity was nothing compared to Ka’kwet’s fame. Ka’kwet, with her long shiny black hair worn in two plaits,and soulful deep brown eyes looked remarkably serene from her seat on the dais. Her eyes held a deep wisdom beyond her years, and also a great sadness. A remarkable tribute who had seemed so ordinary early on, Ka’kwet had won her games barely three years earlier at the tender age of thirteen years old, making Hunger Games history as the youngest victor ever. 

Diana remembered her games. Ka’kwet had been smart and she’d played the game cleverly. Her family was one of a few that were known to sneak into the woods to forage in district twelve, which had evidently helped her in the arena. She’d also pulled off a risky trick in the middle of the night, wherein she managed to distract the career tributes with a smoke signal, and then dumped all their food and supplies into a river near their camp, where they’d been carried off by the fast moving water. Three of the careers had managed to starve to death before the games finished, and Ka’kwet had won a brief tussle with a girl from district four when they were the last two standing, using nothing but a small dagger.

Over the year following those games, the capitol had turned Ka’kwet into their media darling, inviting her to tv interviews and lavish parties, keeping her games playing on loop for the entire year. Diana remembered that, just as she remembered the extravagant gifts the capitol had showered on their district over the entire year. Huge sacks of grain and flour, canned fruit. The district had been jubilant, as everyone reaped the rewards Ka’kwet had bled and killed for. Not one had starved that year, but the year soon ended and they were back at square one. 

“What-”Anne started to say something but was cut off by the clock tower chiming 12 ‘oclock noon. All conversation stopped, being replaced by silence or hushed whispers. Noon meant the start of the reaping, and everyone was eager to get it over with.

Mayor Lynde took her place at the microphone and began reading, first the history of Panem, and then the long, extremely dull, treaty of treason. Diana could barely hear anything. Her underlying nerves turned to full blown panic the closer they got to drawing the names, her breathing getting shallow and her stomach rolled, her breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. Beside her, Anne trembled and Jerry gnawed on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Anne’s grip on her hand never slackened.

She forced her attention back to the stage. 

“Good luck to all of you” The mayor was saying, “and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

A moment of silence followed the mayor’s good wishes, before the capitol escort, Nate Severin was introduced. He bounced up to the microphone, his smiles scarily wide, lime green lipstick matching his dyed hair. Unsettling, artificial, unnaturally beautiful. Just like the capitol looked on tv.

“Happy Hunger Games district twelve! And may the odds be ever in your favor!” He sang. From the mayor, and from her mother or friends, the words were an honest prayer, a plea. From Nate they sounded mocking. He didn’t care about the kids he selected and sent to their deaths, and would watch them with the same sick glee as the rest of the capitol.

_ May the odds be ever in your favor. _

In the district those words meant something. To the capitol they were nothing but a catchy tagline. 

“Now,” Nate rubbed his hands together excitedly and crossed over to the first of the two giant glass balls filled to the brim with paper slips, “ladies first!”

He plunged his hand into the ball, and the entire district waited with bated breath. The silence seemed to stretch for days.

_ Not Anne, _ Diana pleaded silently,  _ not Anne,  _ please _ , not Anne. If there’s any good in this world at all make it that Anne isn’t the one called. _

Nate pulled his hand out of the ball, a single slip of paper clenched between his pale  fingers. He smoothed it out carefully and leaned towards the microphone.

_41._ Diana remembered, her stomach lurching _. Anne has 41 entries. That could be one of them. _

_ Please not Anne. _

_ Not Anne. _

_ Please. _

“Diana Barry!”

It took her a minute to comprehend what was happening. Her name,  _ her _ name couldn’t have been the one called. It didn’t make any sense. She only had six entries. Six! The odds were entirely in her favor. There must have been some mistake. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she’d misheard.

She realized her mouth was hanging open in shock. Slowly she closed it and looked around. Everyone’s eyes were on her. She hadn’t misheard then. This was actually happening

Her name had been called. She was a tribute. 

She was going to the capitol. 

Jerry’s face was frozen with shock and horror, his eyes pained. Anne’s face had gone strangely blank, her grey eyes glassy. Diana recognized it as the look she got when the world became too much, when Anne retreated into herself and shut down mentally. 

She was feeling a little lightheaded and the world seemed to be coated ina thin layer of fog. She might have worried she would pass out if Anne’s grip on her hand hadn’t tightened the second her name had been called. 

Dimly, Diana realized the whole district had turned to look at her. Ruby Gillis, a friend of hers from school, was already crying. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her parents.

Instead she swallowed, smoothed her skirt and tried her best to school her features into a neutral expression. She took a step forward…

And immediately got yanked back. Numbly she realized it was because Anne still had a death grip on her hand. If anything her grip had continued to tighten, her fingernails leaving tiny bleeding crescents on Diana’s palm. Gently, she tried to extract her hand from Anne’s grip. Anne did not let go.

“Anne,” Diana said gently, trying to sound composed and not like she wanted to cry. Anne’s expression didn’t change, still staring vacantly into space. Her grip didn’t waver. “Anne you need to let go now. It’s ok.”

It wasn’t, but Diana wasn’t going to say that. Not when Anne was practically catatonic.

Nate announced again, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Jerry offered her a shaky smile. Diana knew he was still upset, could see the panic that welled in his eyes and threatened to consume him, but he was holding it together for her sake and she couldn’t express how much she appreciated it.

“Anne.” Jerry said softly, “Come on Anne, Di’s gotta go up now, c’mon. We’ll be able to go see her in a couple minutes.

Anne still did not let go. She didn’t show the slightest hint that she had heard him. 

Diana could see peacekeepers walking in their direction. Once they reached them they’d drag Anne off her, and throw her onstage and they wouldn’t care if either of them got hurt. 

She had to make Anne let go before the peacekeepers got here. Jerry seemed to realize the same thing. Gently he grabbed her and Anne’s clasped hands, and started prying Anne’s fingers away. With a final tug from Jerry, Diana and Anne were no longer linked. 

Apparently this, the separation of their hands, was enough to snap Anne out of her stupor. Her eyes were wide and panic stricken, slightly dazed, as they looked at Diana.

“No.” It was only a whisper, but the pain in Anne’s voice broke Diana’s heart. She sounded so very lost.

The peacekeepers had backed off once Jerry had pulled Anne off her, but they were starting towards her again, and Diana knew she’d been stalling for too long. She offered Anne a pained smile, turned, and began walking slowly towards the stage. The last thing she saw before she turned was Jerry wrapping Anne in a tight hug. Anne still looked shell shocked, but tears were starting to shine in her wide grey eyes.

“No.” Anne’s voice was still little more than a whisper. She could hear Jerry murmuring softly to her, trying in vain to console her, but she didn’t think Anne was listening.

The stage was right in front of her now. She swallowed with difficulty, and went to mount the steps.

“NO!” This time it was a scream. Diana swallowed with difficulty and fought the urge to whirl around and console her friend. She stepped up onto the stage, ignoring all the mutters and stares that surrounded her, feeling as though she was floating. The shock still hadn’t worn off, and she was trying to wrap her head around the fact that she was a tribute.

Behind her Anne screamed, and Diana stopped dead in her tracks.

“I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!”

A wave of gasps and whispers swept through the crowd. Someone screamed. It might have been her, Diana wasn’t sure.

“Anne  _ no _ !” Jerry hissed.

But it was too late. Anne had volunteered, and it was too late to take it back. 

Diana couldn’t help it, her face crumpled and the sob she had been working so hard to suppress tore from her throat. It was as if the dam had broken; tears flowed down her cheeks. 

Anne was sacrificing herself for Diana’s sake, was going knowingly to her death so Diana wouldn’t have to. Anne was a tribute, and Diana’s world felt like it was ending. 

She wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that she was happy, elated even, to be spared, or the fact that Anne was the price she had to pay for that blessing.

Her eyes met Jerry’s and a spark of fear flashed through her heart when she realized that as hard as she tried, she couldn’t read his expression. That scared her. Jerry was usually an open book. Anne was the one who shut down when things went bad. Not Jerry, never Jerry.

“Well,” Nate exclaimed with glee “this is certainly an interesting turn of events. If our volunteer could please come up to the stage, we can continue with the proceedings.”

Anne moved more assuredly towards the stage than she had, Diana was sure. The broken, slightly blank look from earlier had disappeared, having been replaced with a look of grim determination. 

Whispers picked up again as Anne strode determinedly toward the stage, head held high. Knowing she was no longer needed, Diana teetered down the steps of the stage. Anne met her at the bottom and pulled her into a quick, fierce hug.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe now.” She whispered. Diana hugged her back tightly and only managed a sob in response before Anne pulled away and mounted the stage.

Diana continued to sob, fully aware of the fact that she’d just made a fool of herself on national television. She was too miserable to care.

“Now,” Nate was saying, his sadistic smile aimed at Anne, who met his gaze squarely, “what is your name, and how old are you?”

“My name is Anne Shirley. I’m fifteen years old.”

“Well Anne Shirley,” Nate said, “that was quite a show, I’m sure we have viewers in the capitol just dying to hear your interview. However, the show must go on, and we’re already running behind. It’s time to choose our male tribute, although I doubt anything could live up to the excitement of our female tribute."

Dimly Diana realized someone had dragged her back to where Jerry was standing, as she focused on the stage. He pulled her into a hug, but she hardly noticed her eyes still fixed on Anne’s slight figure, standing resolute on stage. Despite her best efforts she couldn’t seem to catch Anne’s eye. Maybe it was because Anne seemed determined not to look in her direction.

Jerry released her, and they turned back towards the stage in time to watch Nate reach into the second glass ball and pull out the name of the second unlucky soul who would go first to the capitol, and then to their death.

She barely had time to draw in a breath before Nate was reading the name, the sound echoing out of the microphone.

“Jerry Baynard.”

For a second she felt like she couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. First Anne, now Jerry. She couldn’t lose them both. Not now, not like this.

“No.” She stumbled forward, grasping the back of Jerry’s shirt in her fist as he moved towards the stage. She sobbed. “No, not you too. You can’t go. You  _ can’t _ go. Don’t leave me too. Please, you can’t go.”

He turned to her and smiled sadly. “Please Diana, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Gently he extradited himself from her, before dropping a soft kiss on her forehead and offering her another dim smile.

And then he was gone.

She sunk to her knees as he mounted the stage, looking as steady as Anne had and just as brave. 

Someone was rubbing her back gently. She slapped their hands away. She didn’t want comfort, didn’t want their fake condolences or empty words. 

How could the world be so horribly  _ cruel _ ? 

“-volunteers?” Nate was asking.

There was a pause. And then:

“Me. I volunteer as tribute.”

Diana was so shocked she stopped crying.

She wasn’t the only one who was surprised. There were outcries of shock this time, more than just hushed whispers. Anne wasn’t liked among the district, or well known. The people were shocked at her volunteering but they wouldn’t mourn her. Clearly that wasn’t the case for whoever had volunteered on behalf of Jerry. Whoever had volunteered for Jerry was clearly popular. Some people were crying, others barely concealed their anger, and everyone showed their shock.

The crowd parted and suddenly Diana knew why.

Gilbert Blythe strode onstage, sharing a meaningful look with Jerry as he took his place beside the podium.

Unlike Anne, Gilbert had been calm when he’d volunteered instead of frantic. He’d waited until Nate asked before volunteering instead of blurting it out as soon as he could find his voice. It had been a calculated decision when Gilbert volunteered, rather than a spur of the moment one the way Anne’s had been. To do that was a different sort of courage than Anne had, but that didn’t make it any less brave. If anything it made him even braver.

Pale and steadfast the two young tributes stared out at a silent district, as the mayor began to read the long, dreary treaty of treaty.

Diana’s shock began to wear off and was replaced with confusion. As Jerry returned to her side and lifted her off the ground with the force of his hug she couldn’t help but wonder why Gilbert did it. As much as Diana hated to admit it, it made sense that Anne had volunteered for her. It was stupid, and edging on insane, but also a heroic selfless act that was on brand for her best friend. But as far as she knew Gilbert and Jerry weren’t friends. In fact she didn’t think they’d ever spoken to one another outside of school. So what could have possibly persuaded him to volunteer on Jerry's behalf? Why would Gilbert decide to die in his place?

Her puzzlement over Gilbert’s motives was forgotten as the mayor finished reading and Nate waltzed up to the podium once again, meaning the reaping was coming to a close.

“Alright district twelve, let’s hear a big round of applause for your newest tributes!” He crowed.

To Diana’s complete surprise, not one person clapped. Two tributes had been drawn, two volunteers had come forward, and no one quite knew what to make of it. What they did know was that what happened wasn’t ok. This wasn’t ok, and they were all sick of it.

Finally, Anne met her eyes, dread and fear shining in the swirling grey of her irises, badly disguised with a thin veneer of anger, and Diana suddenly knew what to do.

She pressed the three middle fingers of her left hand to her lips, and held them out to Anne, and to Gilbert. A small message of comfort, and of gratitude, a painful, heartfelt goodbye. Beside her, Jerry copied the motion, offering his own silent salute. One by one the rest of the citizens of district twelve did the same, each one offering their own condolences in a silent prayer.

Onstage Anne swallowed visibly, and Gilbert teared up. Mayor Lynde smiled tightly, and the meteors bowed their heads slightly. It wouldn’t be safe for them, as officials, to participate in the gesture, but they showed the sentiment how they could, offering some modicum of respect and admiration.

Nate didn’t seem to know what to make of it. After a brief tense silence he officially ended the ceremony, and Diana only had time to see Anne and Gilbert get surrounded by peacekeepers before Jerry was tugging insistently on her arm.

“Come on,” he said, dragging her through the crowd, “let’s go say goodbye.”

_Goodbye._ Oh, how Diana hated the word. 

All the time in the world would never be enough to say goodbye to Anne, her bosom friend, who’d taken up residence in her heart the first time they’d met and had lived there ever since. Additionally, all the time in the world would never be enough to thank Gilbert for his sacrifice, for his selflessness in saving Jerry, no matter what the reasons may have been.

But Diana didn’t have all the time in the world to say her goodbyes. 

She had fifteen minutes.

_ Let the seventy fourth Hunger Games begin _ , she thought bitterly as the peacekeeper led her and Jerry to Anne’s temporary jail cell. Because this is where the games truly began, with the nearly impossible task of saying goodbye to someone who was a dead girl walking. Where the tributes had to say goodbye to their friends and families, while trying to come to terms with their own mortality.

_...and may the odds be ever in your favor. _


End file.
